


Creep

by betts



Series: Kinkmeme Fills [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drugged Sex, Drunk Sex, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Roommates, WTFfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 05:24:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17912810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/pseuds/betts
Summary: For the prompt: Bellamy fucks unconscious/asleep/drunk Clarke (+ age gap).Winner of the 2019 BFWA After Dark for Best Non-Con Completed Work





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please for the love of god heed the tags. I continued this prompt from the KM per requests of anons so as to reach maximum fuckery. Ch1 is what I posted on the KM and ch2 is new content. This goes without saying but this is entirely fictional and I obviously do not condone anything herein in reality.

The fire alarm goes off. Bellamy is out of bed like a shot and, seeing nothing awry in the apartment, slides on his flip-flops and runs out the door. In the hallway, the sirens are going off and lights are flashing, and he heads down the stairs and outside, where several of his pajama-clad neighbors are waiting. Vinson, the creepy neighbor across the hall, is holding his cat and looking worried. Luna and her girlfriend Raven are fully dressed and sitting on the stoop, looking stoned and irritated.

In the distance, sirens are wailing as they approach. When the truck arrives, it falls silent, the firefighters run in, and the whole thing takes about ten loud, obnoxious minutes. Bellamy wonders where his roommate, Clarke, is. He thought she would have come out with him, and when she didn’t, figured she was maybe out for the night — it’s a Friday, after all, and Clarke is a socially ambitious college freshman — but he can see her BMW in the lot. 

The firefighters clear the building. It turned out to be a small fire in the laundry facility. No one was hurt except for the oldest and shittiest dryer, and Indra’s load of laundry that she’d left in it. Bellamy returns to his apartment cold and grouchy, and knocks on his roommate’s door. No response. 

“Clarke?”

Nothing.

She moved in with him over a month ago when the school year started. Said she didn’t want to live in the dorms. Bellamy couldn’t blame her. He was hesitant at first. He’s thirty, and she can’t be older than nineteen. She got wind of the place through a chain of people — Clarke has a philosophy class with Jasper, who is best friends with Monty, who works with Bryan, who is dating Miller, who is Bellamy’s friend — and it’s just the two of them. But then he met her in person, and she was sweet and polite and had amazing tits (not that he was trying to look, but a rack like that is hard to ignore), and offered him a hundred more a month than what he was asking. 

He opens the door. She’s curled on her side, comforter between her legs. She’s as still as death, and he’s a little worried, so he puts a gentle hand on her shoulder and shakes her. “Clarke?”

Still nothing. He presses two fingers to her throat and feels a steady beat, and finally his eyes adjust and he sees the slight rise and fall of her shoulder as she breathes. A heavy sleeper, then. On her bedside table is a tall glass of water and a bottle of pills. He picks up the bottle and tries to read the label by moonlight. He doesn’t recognize the name of the medicine, except it ends in -zine, and the description reads “Take two pills at night.”

He sets the pill bottle down. He should leave, go back to bed himself because he has work in a few hours, but his curiosity gets the best of him. He puts both hands on Clarke, one on her shoulder and the other on her hip, and shakes her roughly. Nothing. He climbs onto her mattress and jumps up and down. No response. While bouncing, he shouts. 

Still nothing. 

He gives up and goes back to bed. No wonder she didn’t want to live alone. Being able to sleep through a fire alarm is definitely a health hazard. 

The next day, Bellamy finds himself — as he often does — spacing out and thinking filthy, horrible things. He can’t help it. Call centers are basically hell on earth, and he needs a means of escape. Today his mind keeps slipping to Clarke, in her little tanktop and shorts, settled under the comfort of a completely undisturbable sleep.

For a hot minute when she first moved in, Bellamy thought they’d at least be fuck buddies, if not more. They get along well and he can make her laugh. He’s a decent-looking guy with a steady job and a six-pack. He thought it was only natural. But Clarke hasn’t returned his flirting even a little. It’s like she doesn’t even notice. She hasn’t brought anyone back to fuck, hasn’t mentioned seeing anyone, and she’s so busy, she’s hardly ever home anyway. His apartment is really just a place for her to rest her head. Sometimes he thinks she’s not even interested in being friends with him. He’s not hurt by it exactly, but...he had hopes.

That night, he eats a frozen dinner and watches TV. Clarke comes home at ten and offers him a cheerful hello. Before she can run off to her room like usual, he says, “Did you hear the fire alarm last night?”

She frowns. “What alarm?”

“We had to evacuate the building. There was a fire in the laundry room.”

“Guess I slept through it.” And she walks off to her room and closes the door. 

By one in the morning, Bellamy can’t sit still. He waited until her light was turned off, then he waited another hour, and then an additional hour just to be safe. Now it’s nearing the time it had been when the alarm went off last night, and he goes and knocks on her door loudly. “Clarke?”

No answer. He opens the door. Tonight, she’s on her back, in a big t-shirt covered in spots of paint and a pair of plain white underwear. Her mouth is slightly parted, and she’s breathing softly. 

He bends over her. “Clarke, wake up.” Nothing. “Clarke, wake up, it’s an emergency.” No response.

He puts his hand on her stomach, feels her belly rise and fall with each breath, then traces his fingers over the hem of the t-shirt, and raises it just past her navel. Her skin is pale, and for once he’s grateful for the garish street lights outside of the apartment building which are streaming through the windows. He tugs the shirt a little higher. He can see the underside of her breasts. His heart is pounding. He lifts the shirt higher, until her breasts are completely exposed. Her tits are just as immaculate as he’d always fantasized, big and round, small pink nipples peaking up in the cool air. He can’t help himself — he flicks a thumb over one of them. If she woke up right now, there’s no way he’d be able to explain this. 

And yet, he continues. If she hasn’t woken up yet, he reasons, she won’t. He pinches a nipple between a thumb and forefinger and twists it a little. It hardens between his fingers, and he watches as goosebumps erupt over her skin. Slowly, he climbs onto the bed until he’s bent over her, a hand on either side of her body, and leans down to suck a nipple between his teeth. He’s had an erection off and on all day thinking of this, and now that it’s happening, he’s harder than he’s ever been. 

She shifts and sighs under him, her thigh grazing his cock where it’s trapped against the waistband of his sweatpants, and he jumps off of her, as far as he can get, nearly crashing into her desk. 

But she hasn’t awoken, and her shirt is still ridden up to her armpits, and her legs are splayed open. He can’t stop himself — he reaches into his pants and grabs his cock, jerks it in his fist, feels like such a fucking creep, but Clarke is the hottest girl he’s ever met, and this is the hottest situation he’s ever been in. 

He finds himself inching closer to her, rubbing his cock with his palm, until he reaches her bedside and climbs on top of her once more, continues stroking himself as he peppers kisses down between her tits, over her stomach, and settles between her legs. He noses at her cunt and mouths at the soft cotton of her panties. He’d kill to be inside her.

Eventually it all gets to be too much, and he lifts off to straddle her hips. Her jerks his cock hard and fast in his fist, and within a minute, he’s coming, streaking her chest and stomach. Some of it hits her chin, right below her lip. When he’s done, he leans down and licks it off of her, sucks on her tits some more, until, were she awake, she’d probably be squirming and sore. Then he reaches her face, and licks the come off her chin, and moves over to her lips, which are small and sweet and pliant under his tongue. He nibbles at her lower lip and sinks his tongue into her mouth. He’s surprised how much he enjoys it, kissing someone who can’t kiss him back. If he weren’t totally spent, he could probably get hard just by nibbling her lower lip.  

“One day you’ll be awake for this,” he promises as he pulls her shirt back down. 

When Clarke returns home the next night, it’s a few hours earlier. The sun is even still out, and he hasn’t eaten dinner yet. 

“I can make something for us,” she offers. “Maybe we can watch TV.”

“Sure,” he says, unable to meet her eyes. “Whatever you want.”

She makes mac ‘n cheese and they watch a couple episodes of Friends. He offers to clear the dishes, and she follows him into the kitchen and starts asking him questions. What’s his job like, and where is he from, and what’s he into. After a while, it feels normal enough that he forgets he jizzed on her tits last night, and they end up back on the couch for another couple episodes.

When she stretches, he stares at her chest and averts his eyes again when she glances at him. “Sorry I’m not around much,” she says. “I’m just like, constantly bombarded with stuff. I’d really like to spend more time with you, though. You seem really cool. Maybe we could hang out this weekend?”

She’s giving him flirty eyes, or maybe they’re just normal eyes and he’s a pervert. He thought he was good at this stuff, but his brain is cloudy — in a couple hours, she’ll hit the deepest level of unconsciousness humanly possible and he’ll be able to do whatever he wants to her. 

“Sure, yeah,” he says, forcing his eyes toward the TV and shifting so that she doesn’t see the tent in his basketball shorts.

She stands and bids him goodnight, and shuts herself off in her room. The light clicks off shortly after, and every minute that passes is pure agony. Eventually his impatience wins out. He goes to her door and does the usual: knocks, says her name, waits for a response that doesn’t come. He goes inside, and tonight she’s on her stomach in a tanktop and a little yellow thong. He says her name again right by her ear, jostles her. Still nothing. 

Her legs are spread slightly so he slots his hand between them and rubs her cunt over her underwear. He nearly chokes on his own spit to find that she’s wet. Soaked, actually. Then he sees it — a little purple vibrator tucked halfway under one of her pillows. She hung out with him all night, then went to her room and got herself off. He was hard already, but that just makes it worse.

He gently tugs the crotch of her thong to the side, spreads her pussy lips and presses the tip of his middle finger into her. It goes in easily. Part of him wonders if she’s a virgin. She’s such a good, sweet girl. He’s never seen her come home drunk or high, knows she gets straight As (he had asked to see her high school report card when she moved in, to make sure she was a good student), and spends a truly appalling amount of time in the library. She wouldn’t have time to get fucked properly. He’s surprised she knows what a vibrator even is, let alone owns one. 

Her cunt looks so small and pink. He leans down and presses a kiss to it, darts his tongue out just to taste her. She’s everything he’s ever dreamed she’d be. 

He pulls down his basketball shorts and boxers and kicks them off, then tugs her underwear below her ass, mid-thigh, and climbs over her. He should savor this, he thinks, go slow, but he can’t wait any longer. He guides the head of his cock to her entrance and pushes in. She’s so small he barely fits, and he thinks surely this is it, no one can take a cock the size of his and stay asleep for it. At this point he almost wants it to happen, wants to see how she’ll react waking up with a cock fucking open her virgin pussy. 

He should have brought lube. Each inch into her makes him more certain she’d never been fucked before, at least not frequently. He finally bottoms out and has to rest a moment, gather himself so this won’t end too soon. Her face is pinched into a pained expression, a little pout on her lips and a wrinkle between her eyebrows. When he pulls out, a ring of red glistens around the base of his cock. He tore her hymen, and she wasn’t even awake for it. If she were, maybe she’d be crying. The thought sends a shock of pleasure through him, and also regret. If he’d just been patient, maybe she would have given it to him voluntarily.

He runs a gentle hand down her back. “You really are a good girl, aren’t you.”

He pulls out and shoves back in. This time she’s a little looser. He waits for any kind of response from her, but the pained look is gone, and she’s as peaceful as a cat in a patch of sunlight. Her eyes are flitting back and forth under her eyelids. 

He tries to fuck her softly and slowly, but soon he can no longer restrain himself, and fucks her harder, with quick, deep thrusts, his face buried in her neck, pressing kisses against her skin. He bites her shoulder and leaves a mark somewhere she hopefully won’t see, and if she does, she’ll confuse it for something else. 

He can barely hold it back anymore, so close to the edge he can feel it in his teeth. His plan had been to pull out and come all over her ass just to be safe, not knowing if she’s on the pill or not — and thinking, with absurd pleasure, that she might consider it immaculate conception — but the thought is too heady, too intense. Coming inside her, letting her wake up to the feel of his seed in her still-soaked cunt. Filling her up, fucking a kid into her without her even knowing. 

That’s the thought that tips him over. For a moment he tries to bite his lip to curb his shout, but then realizes it doesn’t matter anyway, and cries out as he fucks into her so hard that her head is nearly hitting the headboard. He comes and comes, more and harder than he ever has in his life. 

He pulls out and crawls down the bed. Her cunt is glistening red with streaks of blood mixed with his come, which dribbles out of her. He leans in and laps at her, sucks the taste of copper down his throat, moves up to her asshole — asscheeks in his hands while he spreads her open — and rims her out. He has no control over himself anymore. Tomorrow night maybe he’ll fuck her ass. Maybe he’ll even shove his cock in her mouth. Every night he’ll fill her, and every day he’ll be kinder to her, sweeter. He’ll flirt and smile and offer his praise until she bends to him, and one day, she’ll bring him in here, and she’ll be awake. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is extra non-conny fyi.

He lets the heat die down for a while so she doesn’t get suspicious. In the interim, they have dinner twice more, the first time fairly innocent, just bar food and a walk around the neighborhood, but the second time is more intense. She has a few too many drinks, sways a little too close, and by the time they make it back to the apartment, she's completely draped over him. The second they’re through the door, she mauls him, and they tumble onto the couch, tearing at each other’s clothes. He shoves her shirt and bra up and roughly sucks at her tit. She moans; it surprises him, forces him to remember that she’s awake. 

“Wait, wait, stop,” she says.

He lifts up, her breast still in his hand. She’s hanging over the arm of the couch, jacket still on, pants unbuttoned. Her eyes are glassy and her words slur together. “We probably shouldn’t. We’re like, _roommates_.”

In response, he slides his hand into her underwear and pushes his finger inside her. She lets out a small gasp.

“You’re right,” he says, fucking in and out slowly. “Definitely a bad idea.”

He gets her worked up quick. She’s soaked for him already, just as tight as she was when he fucked her. 

“There’s something you should know,” she says.

“What’s that?”

“I’m a virgin.”

If he hadn’t been furiously beating himself off nonstop the past two weeks, her admission alone would have made him blow his load right then. 

“Is that — okay?” she asks.

“Sweetheart,” he says, “it’s perfect.”

“So you’ll be gentle?”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

He takes his time with her after that. She’s sloppy, wavering on her feet. He gets her in her bedroom and undressed, lays her down and eats her out. She comes hard, soaking his chin. He kisses his way back up her body and lines himself up at her entrance.

“Shouldn’t you put on a condom?” she asks.

“I'm clean.”

Before she can respond, he pushes into her. She lets out a choked gasp, a near-cry of pain, and he’s suddenly grateful he only fucked her once. If it didn’t hurt, she’d get suspicious. He fucks her hard and dirty. The mattress slams against the wall. She’s bleeding again, so tight he had to break her twice. Her cunt nearly squeezes his dick off. Eventually he turns her over on her knees and fucks her back onto his cock, her hair in his fist. For good measure he spanks her, a test at first to see her reaction. She nearly screams in pleasure, so he does it again, harder, and her hand flies to her clit. He paints her ass red, pounds into her while she comes on his cock. Her moans get annoying and he wishes she were asleep again. She can’t hold herself up after that, so he picks up her hips and empties himself into her limp body.

“Oh my god,” she says. “Is it always like that?”

“Mhm.” He lies on his back, air conditioning cooling his damp skin.

She curls up onto him and he fights the urge to push her away. He should have known sex with a nineteen year old would come with strings.

“Aren’t you going to take your pill?” he asks.

“Can’t take it with alcohol.” And then she falls asleep.

* * *

Clarke apparently discovers that getting fucked within an inch of her life is far better than any sleep aid. They fuck morning and night, and Bellamy should be happy about it, round-the-clock pussy, but there are two things she won’t do and those happen to be the two things he wants most: she won’t blow him, and she won’t let him fuck her ass. When he asks for the former, she wrinkles her nose and says “Ew.” He’s attempted the latter, and she shouts in pain and yells at him not to do it again, and he calms her down by saying, "Sorry, wrong hole."

So she needs to take the pills again, and to take the pills again means he needs to stop fucking her, and the few times he’s tried to push her away, she fucks him anyway, because she’s a quick study. Eventually he crushes up one of her pills into her glass of wine with dinner. He made a roast for them, and they settle in to watch a movie. They start making out shortly after the plates are cleared. She falls fast asleep while his tongue is in her mouth. First, he opens her jeans and pushes his hand into her underwear. He knows her body now, knows exactly what she likes, can get her off in a couple minutes on her way out the door before class. He does that now, gentle circles around her clit, shoves a finger into her and lets the pads of his knuckles do the rest of the work. For a moment he thinks it’s not going to work, but then her body tenses up and her walls clench and shudder around him, and she squirts right through her jeans. He pushes his wet fingers into her limp mouth, lets her tongue clean them off. 

In her bedroom, he slaps her a couple times to make sure she’s out cold, pulls his cock out and pushes it into her slack mouth. He holds her head steady and fucks her face. Her teeth scrape against his cock and drool starts pooling out of her mouth onto the pillow. He hits the back of her throat and stays there to see if she’ll choke or gag, but she only breathes steadily through her nose. He pushes in further, until he can see the outline of his cock in her throat. The sight just about kills him. He pulls out and grasps the base of his dick so he won’t come all over her face, even though he wants to.

He makes quick work of her jeans, pulls them down below her ass along with her underwear, positions her over the edge of the bed. He kneels down and shoves his tongue into her asshole. Her rim opens and flutters around him, body completely relaxed. He lubes her up with two fingers so she won't be too sore tomorrow, and then gets his cock plenty wet. When he pushes into her, she gives easily. No screaming or clenching around him this time. He sinks to the hilt in one easy movement, lets himself stay there and enjoy her tight ass taking his whole cock, without any of her annoying high-pitched sounds or protests to interrupt him.

He fucks her slowly at first, takes his time getting as deep as he can go, and picks up the pace, until he’s slamming into her, careening over the edge far too quickly. 

Her ass clenches down around him suddenly. Her whole body tenses and she lets out a pained, shocked noise. She pushes up onto her hands. "Bellamy, what the fuck.” But he’s so close, he doesn’t care. The extra pressure on his cock is euphoric. He shoves her down and continues fucking her while she struggles, and comes so hard, he sees white spots at the edges of his vision. When he pulls out, she cries out, and he keeps her held down while he watches his come drip out her ass. Her rim squeezes against nothing, fat droplets dribbling out down her soaked cunt.

He lets her up, and prepares himself for whatever happens next.


End file.
